


The Deep, Deep Ocean

by FromCharlieWithRegrets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Dean Loves Cas, Dean is an Idiot, I Love Dean, Internalised Homophobia, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, M/M, So does Cas, i kind of hate John ngl, please don’t bully me, this is my first fic, uhh I suck at this sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromCharlieWithRegrets/pseuds/FromCharlieWithRegrets
Summary: Dean is tired of holding everything(I had to write something for school but shhhh don’t tell the teachers it’s destiel)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	The Deep, Deep Ocean

He had spent too long fighting back the tears and so this time he allowed them to fall. He allowed himself to feel. To cry, for the life he missed, for his childhood, for his loved ones.

And he allowed himself to defy the message his father ingrained in him through years of indoctrination. All the years of you'll never be good enough, you break everything you touch, you hurt everyone, you deserve this, this is all your fault. He allowed himself to defy it all with a single thought.

Maybe, just maybe, you are good enough.

It was like a dam broke inside of him.

He felt like laughing, he didn't know at what. Maybe at his own naivete or maybe at the world. Maybe at his still burningly low self-esteem.

But still he allowed himself to breathe and defy his upbringing, his father's word that he had taken as gospel. Because suddenly all the years added up and started weighing down on him full force. All the years of being a punching bag, taking any abuse so his little brother wouldn't have to. All the years of self-doubt and self-hatred crumbled down to this moment.

When he had been alive the man was more drill sergeant than father and when he had died, he had been turned to a martyr. The younger man had never gotten a chance to validate the abuse and never gotten a chance to counter it. And now nobody knew, the memories of steel-toed boots and bright red fists into his stomach would stay with him, and probably die with him too.

He stopped, he let himself stop, just for a moment, he needed to breathe.

It was hard to realise he was in love with the man with starry starry night eyes that shone the same blue as the ocean. It was even harder to let himself fall.

It was hardest of all though, to learn to ignore the voice of his father in his head, hard to hear those malicious whispers and then to stop them. It was a long process. At first, he didn't, he couldn't, part of him still believed he was deserving of the torture, part of him still thought his father was right. But slowly, eventually he realised that his own happiness was worth it. He was worth it.

It was hard to be able to remember the feeling of aching, burning, bruised-blue ribs after his father had found him at fifteen, tangled between another boy and a couch.

It was hard for him to almost still feel the flying punches, the landing kicks, and then continue to kiss a man, another man. But it was worth it, he was worth it, and he was starting to realise just how much his father had been wrong.

And so the healing began. Slow. Painful. There were lots of wintery nights where he still woke sweating from a nightmare. There were lots of minutes that felt like hours, struggling to breathe and trying to stop the tears. But it was healing. Slow and painful, but there.

Allowing himself to question a man who had done so badly by him was the first step, and it was like walking, heaving, through a desert for days, weeks, months, and then finding a trickling stream.

Allowing himself to realise his father had demanded respect he hadn’t and didn't deserve was like following the stream and finding a river.

And allowing himself to breathe again, to defy and to trust, to dangle helplessly over the cliffs of love, because he found someone who made the pain of living worth it, even when he couldn't find it in himself, was like following that river and finding the deep, deep ocean.


End file.
